


Free with the Price of Admission

by annieke



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-04
Updated: 2012-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 03:49:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annieke/pseuds/annieke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Escorts au<br/>Buck and Vin working a job together. They don't seem to mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free with the Price of Admission

**Author's Note:**

> Written several years ago, part of some fic I'm moving over here.

He flexed his fingers and squinted to peer at the delicate hands of his Rolex, vanity keeping him from reaching for the pair of bifocals sitting next to the lamp on the dresser. Nine minutes past ten. They were late. 

Not that it mattered he supposed while flicking away a bit of lint adhering to the crease of his slacks, though punctuality did come high on his list of admirable traits in fellow human beings, especially those under his employ--and in this regard, they certainly were. Still-- 

He was adhering to the assumption that what, or whom, rather, he was expecting was definitely worth the extra minutes he had to sit and dwell upon their impending arrival. Maybe a bit school-girlish of him to do so, ridiculous, really, at his age to be feeling quite so giddy about them finally showing but then, this evening was to be a first of sorts for him and the anticipation of that was most definitely half the enjoyment. 

Ice clinked in his glass, shifting as it melted and he rose to get a refill from the full bottle of scotch resting near his bifocals. The suite was nicely stocked, selections of good to better name-brand bottles of liquor huddled together next to several sparkling pieces of crystal stemware and their coordinating highballs. A silver bucket recently filled with fresh ice sat next to these, tiny beads of diamond-bright water droplets slowly meandering down its side. 

Imported cheeses and the freshest seasonal fruits rested untouched on a large platter recently delivered by room service, and he idly plucked a large, dark grape from its vine and popped it into his mouth, closing his eyes with pleasure when it exploded in a burst of tangy sweetness. 

So, drinks, food, he reached out to straighten the rows of beer he'd requested from the hotel, several varieties, imported and domestic. All was ready. The concierge had provided nicely for his 'business meeting'. 

Muffled noises in the hall outside his door had him raising his head, listening intently for the soft rap of knuckles and then smiling when he did hear, pausing that extra moment to let the actuality of their presence sink into him. 

They were here. It was about to begin. 

Shivers all but raced down already charged nerve endings, a reaction he hadn't felt in quite some years and one he was markedly pleased to find still existed; age, perhaps, not yet caught up to him liked he feared. Like his wife was constantly reminding him. A showpiece that woman was, Beatrice quite the looker and younger than him by more than a few decades--and also a constant aggravating thorn in his side. And wallet. 

God, wouldn't Beatrice have a conniption if she knew what it was he had planned for this evening--and how much it all cost. 

He laughed, shooting her a private toast with his glass. Undoubtedly, she was out with someone--her personal trainer--Riley or Danny or Skippy or some other ridiculously boyish sounding name, he recalled. Not that he really cared. Wife number four and he'd long ago given up sharing anything with any of them other than their looks on his arm when needed. He'd paid them all well in marriage and in divorce; they lived the life of luxury and it was a rare night, if ever, any of them had found him knocking on their bedroom door. So they could hardly complain. 

But not ancient, not him--not yet, anyway--though undoubtedly those who stood on the other side of this door might very well perceive him that way. 

A twitch in his groin area proved there was still some life in this old body and that, plus a more than ample bank account, were enough, he deemed, to ensure tonight would meet his every expectation. 

A quick glance to the bed and side table in the other room assured items at the ready. The bedcovers making up the king-sized mattress were turned down in a display of luxurious welcome. Money did provide so much in life, tonight no exception. 

He adjusted his shirt cuffs, straightened his tie and tugged lightly at the lapels of his jacket then opened the door, sure the glint of anticipated pleasure he felt upon seeing his two guests shone clearly evident within the deep of his eyes. 

"Gentlemen," he greeted, widening the door and ushering them both inside. 

This was splendid. They were splendid--both of them--and hardly even half of what he'd expected. A glorious discovery. 

He'd half-pictured them a bit more like Ezra. 

A year or so earlier while here on business, the dearest of friends had guided him precisely in the right direction to obtain just exactly the perfect escort needed for his time here. It certainly paid to know those in the right places and when he'd met and hired Ezra Simmons then, and found him to be well spoken and utterly charming, the perfect companion to his business-cum-social engagements that trip, he'd been more than delighted. The after-hours dealings with Ezra proved even more delectable a find. 

But as wonderful were the memories he carried of the nights he had Mr. Simmons as a well-versed and knowledgeable, not to mention debonair, companion, what he'd yearned for since that time a year ago was not what that man could deliver, he was afraid. What he wanted--who--was someone a bit more . . . coach class. Someone with tattoos, maybe. And leather, perhaps. Yes--definitely leather. 

That thought pulled a slight grin from him. 

He was a three-piece suit man. He dealt with other three-piece suit men daily and even that time with Ezra, though immeasurably pleasurable as it had been, was a bit too ensconced in the familiar sophisticated elegance that was his normal day-to-day world. What he did not want was another three-piece suit night. 

So, finding himself with business dealings in this same city, knowing for months he'd be arriving with at least one night to spare to himself and his desires--fantasies--before business filled his time card had him placing his second phone call ever to the man his lady friend had recommended he contact for such particular fulfillment when in town. 

This time, however, Mr. Simmons was not the man he was seeking. 

His request hadn’t been so unusual, certainly he wasn't that demanding and, as he opened the door to these two men, he silently congratulated their provider, a man he knew only as Chris, on his astute knowledge of a client's needs and wants. 

Tattoos, he wasn't yet sure--but oh, these two were definitely not of Brooks Brothers variety. 

And there was leather. 

"Please, by all means, come in," he bade them, trying to slow his breathing and lord, were his hands shaking? 

He turned into the room, leading the way toward the small suite living area and resisting the urge to just sit himself down and stare. There was something about them, both possessing an edge of sorts, a certain baser quality to them he could sense immediately--not the country club type but more the dusty bar type and it was written all over them. Thrilling, it was. 

"Welcome," he added, already reaching to splash a refresher into his drink. "May I offer you a libation? Cocktail? Champagne, perhaps?" 

The younger of the two glanced to the older before nodding, he noticed, which made him wonder whether the man was, perhaps, a bit suspicious of being here or just seeking the older man's approval of a beverage. Either way, he decided, it was exactly that subtle gesture that convinced him on how exactly to orchestrate the rest the evening. 

The young man was half rising from where he was leaning hipshot against the arm of the chair the other was filling--and that man was truly folded into his seat, his physique definitely tall and well proportioned, he was pleased to note, and the man's denim-clad legs seemed to stretch on forever from seat cushion to rug. His pulled his eyes back as the younger man was pointing to one of the domestic-labeled bottles. 

That one was wearing leather pants. 

"Beer, thanks," the young man requested with a smile so striking--pearly white teeth surrounded by a mouth too luscious to disregard. And those leather pants--deepest of sable browns and looking well worn in the most tantalizing places; he almost moaned aloud when he saw the toes of cowboy boots peeking out the bottom. 

"Beer it is," he said with a return smile, handing it over and half pleased to find the glass ignored as the young man drank directly from the bottle. It seemed a rugged thing to do--a little wildness there, maybe, and he liked the deep surge of desire racing through his loins at the idea. 

"Whiskey for me, please," the other called and that was fitting as well, he thought, pleased that this man would request a man's drink. He poured a double shot neat and handed it to him, their fingertips just brushing. There were cowboy boots there, too, at the end of all that length of indigo denim, and a crisp white button down shirt that contrasted nicely with the dark of the man's hair. All in all, perfect. 

"I suppose introductions are in order, now we're settled." Two young men seated--or not quite as seemed to be the younger man's stance, leaning there still with one hip balanced against the arm of the chair and showing off the suppleness of all that leather--in his hotel suite and he had yet to properly greet them. "As you likely already know, I am Jameson Bridger." 

The larger of the men stuck out his hand and he shook it firmly. "Buck,'" he was told and he knew better than to bother asking for surnames. Simmons had most undoubtedly not been Ezra's last name--never mind how slim the chance that Ezra was even his first--and upon considering these two men and their line of work, he hardly believed any names given to be much near the truth, but he nodded anyway, pleased again because, true or not, Buck seemed truly a fitting name for this man. 

Large, but not overly, this Buck definitely had a masculine presence about him, a certain magnetism he was hard-pressed not to notice. It circled the man like a tangible thing, effusing from him in such a way that found him inhaling deeply as he neared to hand over the cocktail. 

Dark hair, thick and somewhat wavy with a sheen that made him conjure up faces of those models who graced the pages of glossy magazines; his fingers could get lost in that wealth, and he gave silent thanks he had fortune both material and imaginative to make this little fantasy come to life. 

The man's eyes were a lovely blue and even during the first few moments he'd met him, seemed filled with a certain tenderness of heart. And mirth. Definitely intelligence. Interesting combination. 

The fact he was so tall, taller than he was, anyway, and taller as well than his younger associate, was a definite added plus to the upcoming festivities. That length of body, the broadness of those shoulders, he could picture it in motion already. 

Was picturing it and so turned quickly to the other, not wanting to push any of them to speed too soon before he was ready. 

He turned to the youngest of the pair, that man's eyes almost startling in their shade of blue. Large and round with, at first glance, an almost innocent openness about them, yet seemingly deeply shadowed with a much older man's understanding; a hard life, maybe, for this boy. And compared to his own age, he was a boy. 

That, too, was perfect. 

Long hair had never been a consideration when he'd put in his request; he hadn't specified particulars. No physical trait demands, though now he looked at the two in front of him, he'd be hard-pressed to believe any other duo would do as well. He adored the younger man had long hair. Somewhere between that not-quite-blond look and brunette, highlighted with a burnished bronze, almost, it fell in soft waves around the man's angular face. A lovely face. And leather. God, that leather. 

"Vin," the young man said, offering his hand in greeting and he found he wanted to hear him speak further. Low and gravelly, he could imagine how even were Vin to merely be ordering dinner, the words spoken would fall far into the realm of sensual. 

This was going to be a night to remember. 

He glanced again at them both, drinks in hand and they seemed to be relaxed. His own countenance was as well, he knew. Not one to be unsettled by much anymore, he relished the quickening of his pulse as he mentally envisioned the two men before him acting out what he had planned for them. For him, actually, as this was a fantasy long lived in his head and heart. 

The larger man, Buck, cleared his throat and began to stand. He wondered if the few moments of silence that had just passed were unsettling to him--interesting. Interesting, too, that this man would be the one to commence the proceedings. Vin seemed relaxed, still, his eyes on Buck. 

"Mr. Bridger--Jameson," Buck began, smile clear and easy as he stood and smoothed out the lap of his shirt. "What can we do for you this evening?" 

He smiled inwardly, slowly setting his glass on the table and enjoying every minute of the open expressions on the other two men's faces. Waiting for him to instruct them. Calm and reposed, they seemed willing for anything. Certainly, he was. 

Remaining seated, he cocked his head upward. "I like how you handle yourself, Buck. You get right to the heart of the matter." 

Buck grinned. "Well, it is your evening. Just don't want to see any wasting of your time." 

"You've known each other long, you two?" Not that it mattered in the scheme of anything, and not that he really cared except it would be more rewarding, he reasoned, for any emotion he hoped to witness to be at least somewhat realistically drawn. 

Buck laughed, a genuine sound that drew smiles all around. "A while." 

"You share affection for one another?" He nodded to Vin who remained still half-standing against the arm of the chair, the barest shade of a grin upon his face. Hard to read and he wondered if just sitting making idle chatter was at bit unsettling to the young man. A man of few words, perhaps, or better yet, a man of action. 

A quick glance shared between Buck and Vin and then Buck smiled his way again. "Wouldn't be the two of us here if we didn't." 

For each other, then, and he nodded his approval. "Good. Good." Which was perfect if not a bit rhetorical, he supposed, and trusted he'd not sounded as though he were conducting a business interview. 

He'd surmised there to be some sort of attraction there, their boss would not have sent the two of them together had they no such rapport, but it was reassuring to hear, as well. He shifted in his chair. "We'll begin with undressing." 

Neither man flinched with the request he hoped sounded less clinical to their ears as it did to his, just gave one another a quick glance and then Buck moved toward him. "Oh, I'm not involved," he said and crossed his legs, one hand waving him away. "This is strictly between the two of you." 

Again a glance to each other, this followed by a light shrug and then both men began to finger the buttons of their shirts. 

"Ah--let me explain." They were curious, attentive. "I am here to witness--" 

"You want t' watch," Vin stated. 

"Just watch?" Buck asked. 

"If that is agreeable?" 

They both nodded and he relaxed. "So, if we may begin, I'd prefer you to engage one another . . . slowly. We have plenty of time this evening." 

They moved closer, Vin a few inches shorter than Buck, perfect in that he could see Buck's face over Vin's as they closed the gap between them, shucking boots first. 

Shirts came next, both men fingering buttons, slowly beginning to ease them free and he could now see bared flesh as Buck's shirt gapped just that much open. 

"Leave it on, if you would," he requested, nodding to Buck and thinking that strip of skin peeking from between the bright white of his shirt about the sexiest thing he'd seen in quite some years. He glanced to the younger of them. "Vin has the most delicious mouth, does he not?" 

Subtle, maybe not, but most of what he wanted to see this night would have to be at least somewhat spelled out. Buck moved in to kiss Vin and he leaned a bit to the right to watch the meeting of their mouths. 

Odd in a way, that even in the face of these two exceptionally good-looking men caressing one another mere feet away, he had no desire to join in or be touched be either. Unlike his time with Ezra when he'd let himself be an eager partner, tonight it was enough to watch. 

He watched Buck push Vin's shirt from his shoulders--broad there, too, he was pleased to find. Their mouths played lightly over one another's in a dance of sorts, Buck moving close then away by mere fractions until they seemed to find that connection. They paused a moment and he could see Buck staring into Vin's eyes with some sort of silent communication. Buck's eyebrows rose slightly, then Vin thrust his whole body forward until their mouths locked. 

This Vin was clearly trying to let the rest of his shirt drop, arms wiggling yet at the same time, had his hands full of Buck as that man grasped Vin's torso under his shirt. 

This was superb--like a switch of some sort had been turned on. They seemed not to notice him and that was fine. He was free to watch, to study, to out and out ogle as these two beautiful men groped and touched. 

Buck had Vin's shirt off and as it fluttered to the floor, had already pushed the man's leather pants partway to his knees where Vin was doing his best to shimmy them lower, finally kicking them free. 

Vin's fingers were deeply threaded into Buck's thick hair, he couldn't have planned that any better. Their mouths hadn't separated, the wet sucking sounds having almost enough effect on him to have him cut this night that much shorter--but then, he knew better. 

He knew what they were doing would be enough to keep him in fantasies for months. 

They were going at it, mouths pressed hard together, hands roaming and Vin had just begun stripping Buck of his jeans when he decided to change the play. 

A light touch to Buck's shoulder had the man pulling just that much away from Vin's mouth and sliding eyes his way. Nodding toward the other room, he whispered, "Back up into the bedroom. Slowly. Make him follow." 

This gave him a sweet charge, watching Buck do as he said and part himself from Vin. He was enthralled with every step they took, the look on Buck's face as he led the way, the answering look on Vin's as he followed. 

Vin, naked, nude, a body used to hard work; he was finely muscled. Lean, yet not scrawny, and he found his eyes riveted along the man's form. His ass was almost perfect. 

And Buck. Tall and strong, his shirt hanging open just enough to catch a glimpse of flesh underneath. Vin had succeeded in undoing his partner's jeans, which now gapped partly open. No underclothing there, either. 

Fascinating. 

"Crawl, Vin," he softly urged, shaking almost when Vin did drop to his knees without swiping a glance his way. His eyes seemed locked on Buck's. 

He was crawling after Buck then, hands and knees moving in tandem, muscles sleekly defined and shifting with ease. Good Lord, his ass really was perfect. 

Buck slowly led him, so slowly. Step by step, they inched their way toward the bed, Vin almost catching up to Buck and he moved in after them to lean quietly on the door frame, watching. 

Vin was almost on him now, Buck having backed by slow measure toward the bed, standing still when he could move no more. 

"Use your mouth, Vin." He wanted to watch, wanted to see those lips around the length of Buck's cock. "Your teeth," he prompted when Vin set hands on the zipper of Buck's pants. 

Vin did without hesitation--hands gripping Buck's thighs and Vin was up on his knees now, mouth against the man's groin and then biting, pulling and tugging with his teeth to unzip the fly the remainder of the way. Buck's cock was perfect, thick and half-hard and he shifted to see better, Vin's mouth now surrounding that pale flesh, hands helping to push Buck's jeans lower and Buck stepping out of them without missing a beat. 

The sound of it all, lips against bared skin and the hollows of Vin's cheeks sucking on that cock. Buck's head was thrown back, his eyes closed and, without him even having to suggest, Buck's hands nestled themselves deep to twist into the thick strands of Vin's hair. 

It was almost too good--his hand found his own hardening dick and he palmed it, played with it lightly through the fabric of his trousers. The sight there, Buck standing with just his shirt unbuttoned, mostly naked, and Vin at his feet, head thrusting forward and back as he worked-- 

"Enough," he stated, stopping the action before they both went too far. Before he went too far. This should be prolonged, had to be prolonged-- 

"Buck," he instructed, sliding against the wall to drop into the settee by the bed because his limbs were feeling none too strong, "lie back." 

This was all obviously something these men had definite skill in, his prompts and suggestions hardly neccessary as they seemed to already be in synch with the fantasy visions playing along in his head. He watched, enraptured, Vin ease himself over top Buck to straddle him, long, lean legs draping Buck's torso and he couldn't tear his eyes away, having to remind himself to inhale as he watched their mouths meet again. Vin slid further up toward Buck's mouth, the supine man half tugging him there and then Vin was reaching and grabbing a pillow to shove underneath Buck's head. 

Buck took him into his mouth, Vin curled over him for a few moments, hips forward and back arching backward as Buck seemed to swallow the whole of his hardening length. He watched as Vin braced himself, arms flexed and taut with his hands against Buck's thighs and for a long moment, seemed to hold himself in place, eyes closed and mouth just slightly parted; it was an incredible feast for his eyes. 

Vin's hips began to thrust and it was hard not to stop them right there as he felt the deep surge of his own excitement build, his pulse race, but as he looked to Vin's face, there was something in his expression that held him rapt. The young man was so clearly enjoying this--and Lord, he was enjoying this--and then Vin let out a deep, almost gutteral moan, and he let his own eyes slip shut as that sound seemed to penetrate right through to his dick. 

What they were doing to his senses was incredible--sights and sounds so vibrant and he so very aware of them. He released himself from his own hands. Too excited, he would peak too soon; he had to stop. He was half afraid to look at them, his own erection thick and full and impossible to ignore as it filled the front of his slacks. 

Vin was almost riding Buck's mouth, thigh muscles working as he evenly and oh, Lord, so slowly shifted his hips forward and back, letting his cock ease itself in and out between Buck's lips until Buck's hands grasped around his ass and held him still. With that touch, Vin growled--the man growled--and he found his eyes once more riveted to them. He absolutely couldn't look away as then Vin was coming, hard and fast and moaning and vibrating almost, and Great Scott, Buck was swallowing--he was-- 

His own eyes closed as twinges of ecstasy raced through his own groin, and he played that scene over in his head just that second, not wanting to miss any detail--all he'd just witnessed to be catalogued and recorded and committed to memory. 

He wanted to remember every facet of this night. Every soft-released sigh, every inch of bared flesh--every muscle, every freckle, every look, every gesture--all his. His for the taking, keeping, hoarding. 

Vin was slipping to Buck's side, body clearly tired and half-boneless and he offered them both a smile, his head still reeling from the heady mix of seeing and hearing his fantasy come to life. He felt intoxicated. Beatrice had nothing on these two. 

"Trade positions," he offered, about as much interference as he was willing to chance. What these two had done was more than he'd expected--Vin on his knees that way, Buck still wearing his now not so crisp white shirt-- 

They were moving on the bed, Buck rolling over and Vin seemingly collapsing behind him, disappearing from his view until Buck sat up on his knees, staring down at a now supine Vin. 

"Little tired there, pard?" he heard Buck ask and Vin was grinning, nodding, offering a burst of laughter before stretching out his limbs in almost spread-eagle fashion. 

He knew Vin was merely working out the kinks in his body, could tell that's what he intended--but that position--so perfect-- 

"Hold just like that," he instructed him, eyes shifting from Vin there to Buck sitting atop him. He nodded toward the table, Buck's eyes following the same path. 

It hardly took a genius to comprehend the intent. 

"Vin?" Buck asked. 

He shook his head. "No, no--this isn't up for discussion. No option here in this--" 

Buck was pointing to Vin. "Well, he ought to get a say." 

"It's okay, Buck," Vin said and the look in his eyes told the same. "I don't have a problem with this, you know that." 

Ahh, he'd guessed right, that this Vin would be the one and already he was trolling through several images racing around his head and knowing, just knowing, his fantasies would be fulfilled. 

Buck was reaching for the silk ties he'd left available, rope too abrasive and there was something irresistibly sensual about the soft, supple folds of silk. He'd picked black, mainly for its visual impact as anything lighter might, he was afraid, be lost to his eye within the fabrics of the bed linens. And visual was the point--he had to see. 

Vin was flat out, already in spread-eagle position and holding, it seemed, Buck's eyes as that man pulled a length of black silk between his fingers as if testing for strength. 

"Feels good, you'll like this," Buck whispered and he smiled to himself, because that was just the point exactly. 

Vin let go a soft chuckle. "I know Chris would." 

Their boss, maybe, and didn't that offer up other assorted possibilities for future meetings. Three men perhaps? Certainly his bank account could afford that number--he could hardly imagine what that would be like, three young bodies. A feast for his senses. It was an endeavor worth tucking away for later contemplation. 

For now, though-- 

Buck was kneeling astride Vin's chest and wrapping the silk around Vin's wrist, repeating with the other and then tying them together. Interesting, he'd have tied them both separately to the bed frame. This way, though, Buck pulling Vin's overlapping wrists up over his head and securing the silk to the bed's headboard, seemed much more erotic a position. 

The bedclothes were rustling as Buck moved and Vin was still looking up at him, at the same time lightly testing the give of the cloth around his wrists, eyes seemingly bright with some measure of what looked to be excitement. 

Buck was reaching for another of the ties, turning towards Vin ankles and he stopped him. "Leave his legs free." Which gave him another idea as Buck held the silk stretched between his hands. "Cover his eyes." 

"Wait, no--" Vin objected and Buck was leaning over him, murmuring something to Vin he couldn't hear-- 

He didn't want to direct this line for line, exactly, but felt charged as Buck slipped the cloth around Vin's head despite his initial protest, effectively hiding his eyes and then securing it underneath all that hair. 

Vin seemed to gasp slightly, he was sure he'd heard a catch to his voice and that reaction just amped up his own charge as he wondered if this, this stealing of Vin's sight, was a problem for the young man. 

It wasn't his intention to incite fear, but he thrived on others' reactions--loved to hear, loved to watch, had to watch and just seeing Vin this way, dark cloth hiding his eyes, his sight taken from him despite voiced protest, sent a surge of electric stimulation straight to his groin. Wholly erotic. 

His eyes popped open on the sound of another definite gasp, a brief, sharp intake of air whether erupting from uncertainty or out and out plain fright, he wasn’t sure, but then Vin was arching up off the bed, and Buck was bent over him, his mouth latched onto a raised nipple while Vin softly ground his head into the pillow and moaned. He figured whatever anxiousness Vin was feeling had definitely passed. 

Buck sat atop Vin now, his hands moving down along Vin's torso, fingers lightly trailing and clearly tickling as they swam lower to and then through his own thighs to just under his ass where Vin's again hardening, half-weeping cock jutted upward; there was definitely something to be said about the quick recovery of youth. 

Buck's long fingers traced over the flesh between Vin's parted thighs and Vin bent his knees, pulling them up to clearly give the man more access which also now allowed him full view of the man's private parts. He was hardly about to voice a complaint. In fact, it was hard to suppress the urge to rush face-first into that sweet expanse of skin. 

It was almost too much--the sounds of rustling sheets, of flesh sliding against flesh, the soft, wet slurp of a mouth nibbling against skin, and Vin secured there to the bed, tied and blindfolded. 

Vin was moaning, neck arched, his hair a whisper-soft breeze sweeping across the pillowcase-- 

And Buck's mouth was moving, he could see the flat of his tongue pressed firmly against Vin's chest and it would be so easy, so sweetly easy to prompt Vin to open his mouth and take in the full of Buck's dick to finish him off. 

He could imagine Buck thrusting in and out, Vin unable to control the force, writhing, hands twisting against their bonds while that cock fucked his mouth--but no. Not the exact fantasy playing out in his head, delicious though it would be and maybe, should he hire these same two men in the future, he could end that night that way. But for now what he wanted to watch, to experience like one would a full out orchestra, was something a little more exacting-- 

"Fuck him," he urged, his own voice full and throaty as words seemed dammed in his chest. 

"Yeah," Buck was all but sighing and Vin was nodding his head, shuddering some. He swore he could almost feel the heat from both their bodies, naked flesh covered with a light sheen, Vin's arms tensed as they were still drawn up over his head. 

Buck's tongue slipped its way down the supine man's torso, Vin arching again and releasing a sort of mewling sound with each kiss and lick-- 

He was going to come. He was and he closed his eyes, having to lose sight of the two of them for some fleeting moments or else he'd never make it to the end--their end-- 

There was lube there, scented and warming and he knew without opening his eyes that Buck had flipped open the cap. The scent was musky and Vin was moaning, softly repeating Buck's name over and over and he had to look, had to see-- 

Oh, God, yes. Buck's fingers were there, working between Vin's ass and both their cocks were full and hard. 

He shifted, Buck did, and with very apparent practiced skill, easily slipped on a condom and entered Vin in one smooth slide. 

"Oh, God," he muttered himself, twisting up off the chair because it was so good--they were so good and he couldn't sit still while his eyes and ears absorbed every little detail: The slide of hands over skin, the pull of silk stretched tight, Vin's breathy moans and Buck's more energetic pants as they found a rhythm to their bodies. 

Back and forth, in and out and Buck hitched Vin upward to shove a pillow under his ass. Vin's lower body was angled high, bound hands wrapping around the headboard's slats and his legs folding back at the knees, and yes, they were fucking. Fucking so hard. He could hear them, the sounds they made, see them and they were moving, Buck slow at first, easing his way in and out of Vin as if teasing him--yes, teasing him--and then, God, speeding up, thrusting faster and harder and then stopping, stilling, both of them not moving and they were groaning and they were perfect-- 

Oh, God, they were so damned perfect--  
\+ + + + + + +

Buck was so close, so close, his dick firmly ensconced within Vin's ass and it was so fucking good, so damned tight and good and he didn't give two shits how Bridger was finding them because it didn't come much fucking better than this. 

He didn't wanted to move, couldn’t move-- 

No movin', Buck you stud, he told himself, repeating those words over and over like a mantra to focus on instead of the heat surrounding his aching cock-- 

No movin', no movin'--do not move--let it ride, oh, God, let it-- 

Deep pressure there of impending climax and so let his body still as best he could against the crash of orgasm threatening to lay him flat out. 

He was close, so damned close-- 

Teetering on that brink, tensed in an incredibly alive way, as though every nerve and muscle was thrumming with anticipation--body frozen in place, muscles quivering with his weight half on Vin, half braced onto his own arms and if he so much as moved his pinky he was going to come-- 

Wanted to come, yet wanted to prolong this, make himself hold on--wanted to make this last--wanted-- 

"Buck, shit," Vin breathed and moved just that fraction of an inch under him and oh, God-- 

He was coming, coming as heat and warmth and intense pleasure filled his entire groin and he let it all pour into Vin, rushing out of him and into him with such intensity he couldn’t breathe--couldn't catch his breath-- 

A low moan erupted and he was smiling because Vin's cock was again stiff beneath him and Vin was twisting his wrists against the silk that held them, thrusting hips up and clearly trying to find friction-- 

"Please, Buck," he pleaded softly, hips shifting again but no way to gain satisfaction without a helping hand. 

He had half a mind to let him wait--had it been the three of them there, he, Vin and Chris, they would have enjoyed his soft pleas and dragged out a few more minutes of frustrated pleasure because Vin was just that much more responsive when he finally was allowed to come. 

One look at Mr. Bridger over there, however, had him figuring they'd put on enough show for one night, and so he wrapped his hands around Vin's hips and pulled him back and up onto his own kneeling thighs, shifted one hand to Vin's cock and lowered his mouth down to blow him for all he was worth. 

Vin was moaning, voice low and raspy and sounding and looking as sensuous to his ears and eyes as he must be to Bridger--and in that second when what was visible of Vin's face filled with every iota of pleasure racing through his body, he could absolutely see why this man--a voyeur--liked to watch. 

And then Vin climaxed. Hard. It took mere seconds. 

Vin collapsed back onto the mattress, limbs loose and easy and he leaned forward over him to pull the blindfold free. Two half-lidded, sleepy eyes blinked back at him and he smiled. 

"Damn," Vin whispered. 

"Hot damn," he countered with a grin, then turned to find sight of their host before untying Vin's wrists. 

Bridger was slumped against the back of his chaise, eyes closed and face pale yet sporting the broadest damned idiotic smile. Contentment--that was what that expression was--sweet and pure. The man looked spent, drawn, and pleased as hell--and had clearly satisfied himself to completion while he and Vin were busy, the man's hand was still tucked down into his pants, and Buck figured it was good they'd succeeded in forgetting their audience for a while. 

"Anything else we can do for you?" Smug, he knew he sounded smug and tried to reel in his grin but he just couldn't help himself. Bridger looked like he was half-dead, a spent ragdoll clothed in an expensive suit--it gave him a rush to know he and Vin got him that way. 

Maybe they ought to be making movies. 

Bridger sighed and he could have sworn he'd seen the tiniest glint of tears in the man's eyes before he seemed to pull his composure back to some semblance of stuffed-shirt-on-the-outside order. 

"Thank you," Bridger offered. "It was a most enjoyable experience." 

Was one way of putting it, he mused as he and Vin were finally on their way home. 

It was late when he and Vin left Bridger's room and the hotel--both of them were surprised to find they'd spent over three hours there. 1:15 in the morning and it would feel good to get cleaned up and between familiar sheets. 

Vin was all but out, his head thrown back against the passenger seat as Buck drove his truck toward the house. Asleep, and soon he would be as well, though as tired as Vin seemed to be, he felt himself a bit charged. He nudged him as they pulled into the garage. 

"We're here, Vin." 

Vin awoke and he followed him into the house. Dark, he figured the others were all asleep. They trudged up the stairs, Vin turning to head toward his own bedroom and Buck reached a hand to grab his arm. 

"No, pard. With me," he said, grinning slightly when Vin easily just changed direction and headed to his room. They all had their own bedrooms to find privacy when needed, but there were plenty of nights one or more of them shared with the other. Business was business, but pleasure was a whole other direction and some nights there just begged the need for company. 

"Tired, Buck," Vin said, about as much protest as Buck figured he'd offer. 

"Ezra was right, y' know. You do look damn delicious in that leather." 

That earned him a soft smile from Vin, and he squeezed his hand around that leather-clad ass one more time, Vin shaking his head in that 'you're incorrigible, Buck' way. He didn't care. Vin did look downright sexy as hell in those snug pants and after the past several hours they'd just spent together, having Vin sleeping next to him just sounded like a perfect way to finish the evening. 

His bedroom was dark when they entered, and he moved to the bathroom to flip the light switch there. A soft glow illuminated the room, his eyes adjusting and then he and Vin were both smiling when they noticed the blanket-covered lump filling the middle of the bed. 

"Seems we got us an intruder," Buck said, smirking. 

"You got an intruder. I got a shower callin' to me," Vin mumbled and turned into the bathroom. 

Buck sat on the bed, reaching for the body buried under the blankets. Finding Chris asleep in his bed was a bit like finding an extra cherry tucked into the whipped cream of a sundae. Sweet. 

He nudged the lump and a hand grabbed his arm. 

"Buck?" 

The fingers tightened then relaxed, and he chuckled at Chris thinking someone else might be making themselves at home in his bedroom. "In the flesh." 

"Naked?" 

"Well now, gimme just a minute--" 

Chris emerged from underneath and Buck grinned at the way his hair stood up in spikey tufts. Their eyes met, and Chris pulled him down for a light brush of lips before turning to look around the dimly lit room. "Vin?" 

The toilet flushed and the shower in the bathroom came to life. Chris nodded, pulling himself back to sit up some. He scrubbed at his face then looked at the clock. "Late. Guess it went alright?" 

It was Chris's usual way of asking; he never wanted details--especially not from Vin or him--but did want to know if all went well or there were problems with the job. He gave him a thumb's up. "Went just fine." 

Chris shifted until he was half-reclining against the pillows. "Yeah. Ezra said the old guy was pretty harmless. Executive type. Stuffed-shirt for the most part." He glanced up at him. "Then again, he did want two of you." 

"And lord knows the two of us ain't stuffy," Buck said on a laugh and sat down on the bed. 

"Lord knows," Chris repeated. 

"It was a show." Buck slipped out of his clothes and under the covers, hands pulling Chris toward him. He figured he'd shower later--for the moment, it was too much to resist a warm, naked, sleep-tousled Chris in his bed and he smiled outright as Chris turned into him. "Guy just wanted to watch, Chris." 

Chris slid right up next to him and he relished the feel of his naked flesh. In too little time he knew they'd be an arm's length away from one another, too hot to maintain contact; a king sized bed was definitely a plus for a little extra sleeping room. 

Fingers slipped through his hair and Chris pulled him close. "God. You smell good--sweat and sex--" 

"Sweat smells good?" he laughed. 

"And Vin," Chris murmured, nose nuzzling the hair behind his ear. "You smell of Vin." 

"That getting you all hot and bothered?" 

"Not complaining, that's for sure." 

They kissed lightly again, Buck feeling pretty worn, but also pretty damned content. These were his favorite times--when the job was over and done and he could come home, crawl into his own bed and curl up with one of the others. Sometimes Ezra. Sometimes Chris. Occasionally Vin. Not too often enough, though, were the nights he and Chris and Vin all shared together. 

Chris's arms wrapped around him and he turned some to lean his head back against Chris's chest. To hell with being too hot, no way was he moving even a hair away. 

The bathroom door opened, light streaming into the room along with a wave of shower steam and then Vin was standing over them, towel in hand and peering down. "Hell," he muttered, turning back to cut off the bathroom light. 

"You mean heaven," Buck countered. 

"Not the way you two 're sprawled all over the bed already. You think you can move your big ol' butt over and make room in there for one more?" 

Buck flipped back the covers, pleased with Vin slipping into bed next to him and not moving to the other side like he'd half expected him to do to be tucked in next to Chris. 

Vin tossed something toward him. "Here. Souvenir." 

It was one of the silk ties and Buck held it up, a brief flash of heat racing like a shot through his dick.

Chris grabbed the tie from him, fingers sliding along its slick length. "Show, huh?" His free hand rubbed along Buck's chest at the same time Vin stretched out along Buck's length, wet hair leaving a trail of water along Buck's shoulder where he'd nestled down. 

"Yeah. Show." Vin's voice held more than a trace of drowsy in it. Buck figured it would be mere seconds before the man crashed. 

He was half asleep as well, body thoroughly relaxed and happily tucked between the warmth of the other two. "Yeah," he breathed, "it was somethin' to see for sure. The Buck and Vin variety hour full of amazing tricks and indecent acts. Let us entertain you--free orgasm with the price of admission." 

All was quiet and he let his eyes slip shut, Vin's even breaths to his right and Chris's soft exhales on his left lulling him toward sleep. A few minutes passed and he was all but out when he heard Chris's soft words-- 

"Wish I'd had a ticket." 

And then smiled because he knew come morning, there was sure to be an encore performance. 

With full audience participation.

END


End file.
